The Woman I will Always come Home to

I don’t usually post my amma on mother’s day. Not because i love her any less, but because loving her has never felt like something that belongs to just one day. She’s a part of my everyday life so naturally that sometimes i forget people don’t know how much of me exists because of her.

My amma loves in the quietest ways. In cut fruits beside me while i’m studying, in asking if i ate even when she’s tired herself, in staying awake until i am done studying late night, in remembering the smallest things i mention once and forget later. She has spent years turning sacrifice into routine and love into something so gentle that you almost miss how much of herself she gives away every single day.

And i think that’s what gets me sometimes. How daughters grow up assuming their mothers will always be there, always understand, always forgive. There were days i spoke carelessly because i was overwhelmed, days i stayed distant without realizing she was waiting for just a few minutes of my time. But somehow, she never loved me any less. She held every version of me with the same warmth, even the difficult ones.

The older i get, the more i stop seeing her as just my mother and start seeing her as a woman. A woman who must have been tired, hurt, scared, overwhelmed, and still chose to keep going for everyone she loves. I don’t think i’ll ever fully understand how much strength it takes to carry a family so softly.

There’s so much of her in me. In the way i care too deeply, in the way i try to stay soft even after hard days, in the way i keep going quietly. If i have ever made someone feel safe or loved, i know it began with her first.

Maybe that’s why i wanted to post her this time. Not just to say “happy mother’s day,” but to let the world see the woman who became my first home, my safest place, and the kind of love i will spend my whole life being grateful for.

I love you endlessly, amma. Always. 🤍